


The Secret Ingredient

by mokuyoubi



Category: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (2005)
Genre: Adult Charlie Bucket, Anal Sex, Awkwardness, Elevator Sex, First Time, Fluff, Future Fic, Grinding, Happy Ending, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Pollen, Wonka is mischievous, and a petulant little shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2018-04-28
Packaged: 2019-04-28 22:56:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14459628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mokuyoubi/pseuds/mokuyoubi
Summary: Wonka’s created a new candy, and decides to test it on Charlie and himself. Unfortunately, the ‘secret ingredient’ has quite an unexpected result. Fluff, elevator!sex, and a vapid attempt at a plot. (Though not explicitly mentioned, Charlie is in his early 20s here)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is soooooo old, so I apologise ahead of time if it is not up to standards. My writing has changed a lot since then! This fic is one of many I'm moving over from livejournal, finally, and there are more to come!

“Mister Wonka, I’m not sure that’s the best i--” Charlie trailed off as Wonka placed the candy on his tongue and closed his mouth, “--dea…” He finished lamely.

“I appreciate your concern, Charlie,” Wonka said smoothly, with a superior tilt of his head, “but I have been doing this for a very long time.”

Charlie sighed heavily, but didn’t take it personally. Wonka always got quite smug when he’d successfully created a new candy. “Here,” Wonka offered, pressing one of the candies to Charlie’s closed lips. Charlie was slightly hesitant about tasting it. After all, the Oompa Loompas were far more resilient than he, and always eager to try new things. He didn’t really want to have to face potential side effects from the ‘secret ingredient’ Wonka had used. 

Wonka huffed his own sigh, his eyes going wide with impatience. “I’m fine, Charlie.” He pressed more insistently, and Charlie parted his lips.

The candy was very complicated tasting, and, Charlie had to admit, very good. The topmost layer of chocolate practically dissolved at the touch of moisture in Charlie’s mouth, leaving the sweet taste of sugared peaches, cinnamon, and some other spice, foreign to Charlie’s palate.

“That’s the secret ingredient,” Wonka said, leaning conspiratorially with a very pleased expression on his face. Charlie grinned in return, savouring the last of the chocolate centre as it rapidly went liquid on his tongue.

“Which is?” Charlie prompted, knowing that was what Wonka wanted. Wonka tapped his closed lips thoughtfully and shook his head. “Come on,” Charlie cajoled, leaning in close so Wonka could whisper. His breath caught a little in his throat at the scent of Wonka, peppermint and clean.

“Maybe later,” Wonka said, his grin telling. He liked knowing something Charlie did not, and often times Charlie played along, just to see Wonka’s honest delight. Wonka pocketed the wrapped container he’d said earlier was Mother’s birthday present. “Now, we really should go get ready for dinner. Mother hates it when we’re late.” 

Charlie nodded distractedly. The curve of Wonka’s lips seemed oddly enticing. More so than usual, anyway. “Maybe one more piece,” Wonka murmured, eyes were heavy and dark. He tore the piece in half, eating one and extending the other to Charlie. Charlie bent to meet the chocolate, taking just the tip of Wonka’s gloved finger inside his mouth as well. Wonka’s eyes, closed in pleasure, shot open, and he withdrew his hand immediately, as if burnt.

“Have to get ready for dinner,” Wonka said, and his voice was inexplicably breathy. He lurched passed Charlie, propelling himself off the door frame from the room to the elevator. Charlie followed more sedately, distantly amused at having shaken Wonka so. He liked doing that from time to time, but he’d never been so bold as to cross the physical boundaries before.

The elevator was waiting for them and Wonka curled himself into the corner, his cheeks oddly flushed, his gaze refusing to meet Charlie’s. Charlie pressed the button for their rooms. Since Charlie had turned thirteen he’d had his own rooms in the wing of the factory devoted to living quarters. It was across the hall from Wonka’s, and practically it worked rather well, so they didn’t bother Charlie’s family when they were discussing candy late in the evening, or when Wonka rushed to wake Charlie in the middle of the night with new ideas. It also afforded him privacy that was nonexistent in their little home.

Immediately the elevator whipped off at lightning speed. Charlie could hear Wonka’s breathing, louder than usual, and the sound of it was strangely exciting. In answer, there was a tightening in Charlie's pants and his cheeks went pink with embarrassment. He looked over his shoulder and was startled by the sight of his mentor. Wonka’s face was flushed, his eyes wide and pupils dilated. Charlie swallowed hard against the wave of choking desire he felt when their eyes locked.

“Charlie,” Wonka said in a small voice, and held out his hand, palm flat in a warning gesture. He shook his head a bit desperately. “I think…I think something in the candy…” 

Charlie didn’t wait for him to finish. He grabbed Wonka’s wrist and tugged, delighted by the startled yelp Wonka gave. Wonka fit very nicely inside Charlie’s embrace, and Charlie had always thought it would be like this, when he thought about this at all, right on the verge of sleep. Wonka was thin and small compared to Charlie’s broader, more muscular frame. His candy cane fell to the ground with a loud rapping sound, and his hands slid up Charlie’s chest, inviting and resisting all at once. “Charlie,” he said, swallowing hard. Head ducked to hide his gaze beneath the rim of his hat, his voice was oddly pitched. It sounded like it was in Charlie’s head. “The candy,” Wonka said again, as if he was trying to convince himself, too.

Charlie’s arm went around Wonka’s waist and he jerked again, earning him another sharp sound of surprise. Wonka’s hands flexed against Charlie’s collar, his body lurched forward, causing his hat to tip off his head. Charlie bent his head and Wonka didn’t resist, making a quavering sound of mixed dismay and desire as their lips met. Charlie had never tasted anything so delicious in his life, and as he’d lived the last ten years in a chocolate factory, that was saying something. Of course on the surface, Wonka tasted like the delightful new candy, peaches, cinnamon and that intoxicating spice. Below, however, was what he’d always assumed Wonka would taste of—smooth milk chocolate and fresh mint—the leaf, not the candy—with the slight crispness of nature. Wonka’s mouth was hot and begged to be explored. 

Wonka’s fingers squeezed Charlie’s shirt so hard there was a ripping sound and it sparked something in Charlie. He grabbed at Wonka more roughly, slanted his mouth so he could kiss deeper, biting and sucking at Wonka’s mouth, and Wonka made such wonderful sounds. They stumbled together into the wall of the elevator, hitting dozens of buttons as they went. For a moment the elevator jerked to a stop, hovering indecisively mid-air, trying to decide where to go. Charlie didn’t really mind where they ended up at the moment; he was so hard it burned and ached, and against his thigh, he could feel the evidence of Wonka’s arousal, heavy, hot and hard. He tore his mouth from Wonka’s, looking down at the man trapped against him. Wonka’s eyes were sparkling and dazed, there was pink high in his pale cheeks and his lips were swollen and red. There was something hesitant and fearful in his expression, but he didn’t ask Charlie to stop.

Charlie bent his head again, mouthing kisses over the impossibly smooth skin of Wonka’s cheek and jaw. Wonka tilted his head back, baring his throat. Charlie took the invitation, running his tongue over Wonka’s thrumming pulse. He worked his hands between their bodies, struggling to unbutton Wonka’s jacket and shirt all at the same time, til his fingers found cool, trembling skin. Wonka made a curious little sound, as if in pain, but when Charlie looked at Wonka’s face, it was twisted in pleasure.

The elevator jerked again, finally deciding on a destination, and Charlie and Wonka were thrown to the floor. Wonka landed on top and seemed startled by this new position for the briefest moment before sitting back and rolling his shoulders, discarding his clothing and tossing it aside thoughtlessly. “The candy,” he said again helplessly, but he fell upon Charlie with deep kisses, his fingers darting skillfully down Charlie’s chest til they found the hem of his shirt and tugging. Within a few fumbling moments, Charlie found himself and Wonka deliciously naked together, Charlie’s body sliding against Wonka’s smooth, mostly hairless one.

Usually Charlie didn’t like to think of Wonka sexually. Wonka always seemed so childlike and innocent that Charlie felt distinctly guilty for even entertaining the thought. That hadn’t, however, ever stopped him. Now here he was, in the flesh, and nothing else, and Charlie didn’t feel so guilty. Wonka’s body seemed to be begging to be tasted and marked and fucked into the ground. Charlie knew distantly that he normally didn’t think about things like this, but Willy Wonka was naked, right in front of him.

“Charlie, you’ll regret this,” Wonka said, his tone lucid and serious for a brief, bright moment.

“No, no I won’t,” Charlie said firmly, with all his conviction and rolled Wonka beneath him. Wonka shifted his hips, angling and hooking his legs around Charlie’s waist so their erections rubbed together. Charlie knew this could work plenty of ways. He knew that as far gone as he already was the easiest way would be to keep doing exactly what they were doing. He rocked his hips in time with Wonka’s movements. Wonka’s eyes fell closed, his lips forming soft, pleased sounds, and Charlie bent to taste again. His tongue followed the shell of Wonka’s ear, earning him a particularly rough twist of hips. He locked his arms around Wonka’s shoulders, holding him off the hard floor and bit down gently where shoulder met neck. Wonka gasped and Charlie took that as encouragement, sucking with more pressure. Wonka shuddered in Charlie’s embrace, his fingers fluttering to rest on Charlie’s hips, pulling him down harder, grinding furiously. 

The world inside the chocolate factory was hurtling by in a fantastic blur of colours around them. Charlie’s face burned when he thought of who might have seen them, but he couldn’t bring himself to stop, not when he was so close. The pleasure was reaching a boiling point, curling up in his balls and he was more thrusting against Wonka than anything else, biting and licking Wonka’s neck and not getting enough. He came suddenly and unexpectedly in a hot rush, groaning into Wonka’s hair, bucking his hips over and over and wanting something more. Wonka made a surprised sound and Charlie collapsed on top of him, murmuring nonsense. Wonka’s erection was still poking insistently against Charlie’s stomach, and to Charlie’s amazement, he was still hard as well.

Charlie leaned back on his heels, eyes widening when Wonka ran a gloved finger through the cum on his belly, sucking it speculatively between his lips. His face froze with shock, but he repeated the motion none-the-less, leaving a trail from his lip to chin. Charlie didn’t know why, but the sight nearly drove him insane and he bent to kiss Wonka, hard and possessive. He knew other ways this could work, his hands going to Wonka’s knees and shoving them apart roughly. His fingers searched blindly, briefly gripping Wonka’s cock and stroking before going lower, fingers brushing the puckered hole that made Wonka come soundlessly, jerking uncontrollably in Charlie’s arms.

Wonka didn’t even pause. He pounced on Charlie, knocking him back, his mouth going around Charlie’s cock immediately and sucking, coaxing. Charlie’s hands slammed into the elevator floor, looking for purchase and unable to find it. Instead, he threaded his fingers through Wonka’s hair, pushing harder and Wonka hummed in his throat, the vibrations sending tingling spirals of pleasure through Charlie’s cock. Wonka’s hands skated over his skin, one on Charlie’s hip, one on his balls, kneading and massaging.

“Wait!” Charlie cried, and took Wonka by the shoulders, firmly pushing him away. Wonka made a whimpering sound of disappointment, licking his lips. 

“Charlie,” Wonka said, and the need in his voice made Charlie harder if possible. Charlie put an arm around Wonka’s neck, drawing him in for another kiss. They met halfway, Wonka climbing into Charlie’s lap.

“I want,” Charlie hesitated, gasping between kisses. Wonka usually gave Charlie whatever he wanted, but he was about to ask for quite a lot. “I want to…to…have, to be inside you,” Charlie finished ineloquently.

“Charlie,” Wonka hissed, his teeth brushing the skin of Charlie’s shoulder. “In my jacket. Your mother’s present.” He fumbled around himself, grasping and discarding clothing in search of his jacket. Charlie leaned heavily against the wall, hitting another series of buttons and the elevator jerked again, sending them careening in another direction. Wonka rolled backward, seizing his jacket and tearing open the wrapped gift. Inside was a plain, clear bottle filled with pale green liquid. 

“Mother said her arthritis cream had a way of hanging about all day, and when she accidentally licked her fingers, it made her tongue go numb. This will change flavour every time she licks it, and the taste is caused when the candy evaporates off your tongue, subliminating at body-temperature when mixed with saliva, so there's no after-taste,” Wonka explained, voice excited. Even here, crouched naked in front of Charlie, his eyes sparkled in pleasure at describing his newest treats. “It has mostly the same properties of her medication, but…” Charlie cut off the rest of Wonka’s explanation with a kiss, taking the bottle from Wonka’s suddenly weak fingers.

“It’s a good idea,” Charlie said in a low voice against Wonka’s lips. “You might have to make some more.”

“I was planning on it,” Wonka said, a little dazedly. “I think it would do really well on the market. It’s been a while since we’ve put out a liquid candy.”

“I meant, you might have to make some more for us,” Charlie corrected, pouring the lotion into his hand. Wonka let out a shuddering breath, his blush spreading high over his collar bone. When Charlie leaned into taste, the skin was the flavour of unsweetened strawberries mixed with cream. A long time ago, Charlie would have thought it was just a trick of his mind, but he’d learned that Wonka could create real magic, and it was entirely possible that Wonka would taste just as sweet as the candy he made.

“I’m a little scared, Charlie,” Wonka said, his eyes closed, his mouth open and enticing. Charlie couldn’t mess this up. He didn’t say anything, but with his clean hand, he lowered Wonka to the floor. Wonka spread his legs without coaxing this time, laying his feet on the wall at either side of Charlie’s waist, baring himself. Even after coming, he was just as hard as Charlie remained. Charlie vaguely wondered what the secret ingredient had been, and how he could get a hold of more. 

Charlie carefully put his fingers to Wonka’s entrance again, teasingly light. The skin quivered beneath the touch. Charlie didn’t really know what he was doing, other than what he’d learned from the internet and from hearing his friends talk about such things, and he knew this was important. When some of the tension had left Wonka’s legs, Charlie slid one finger forward fluidly, pushing inside in one slow, smooth motion. Wonka gasped, raising his hips from the floor and pushing Charlie deeper. Charlie figured that was a good sign and gave an experimental swipe, curving his finger gently. The muscles gripping his finger tightened and Wonka clenched his teeth against a squeal that escaped anyway. 

Charlie could imagine those same tight muscles around his cock and his hips bucked upward of their own accord. He wouldn’t ruin things because of his own impatience, though. He pulled his finger aside, making room for another and the fit was a bit tighter, the movement a bit less fluid. Wonka made a gurgling sound in the back of his throat and Charlie was worried for a moment, until Wonka pushed his hips down hard, taking the second finger all the way in.

“Charlie,” Wonka said, his voice strained.

“Are you still scared?” Charlie asked softly.

“Terrified,” Wonka said quickly and Charlie’s heart dropped to his stomach. “Charlie, please, please,” He almost sounded like he was crying, and guilt shot through Charlie more bitter than the darkest chocolate. He carefully withdrew his fingers, running his clean hand over Wonka’s hip and down his thigh soothingly. Wonka’s eyes snapped open and he scrambled to his knees, straddling Charlie’s lap, capturing Charlie’s surprised mouth in a sweet kiss. Wonka took Charlie’s coated hand, fitting it around Charlie’s erection and pumping their hands together until he was slick and ready to explode and then Wonka lifted himself, and slowly sank himself onto Charlie’s cock.

The sight of Wonka’s face—his eyes rolling up in his head and lids fluttering shut, his teeth biting hard into his lower lip, the normally colourless skin flushed bright pink—was intoxicating. Not nearly so as the feel of his body, though, of that tight passage stretching to accommodate Charlie, clenching and unclenching, pulling him in deeper and deeper until Wonka’s bare bottom rested against Charlie’s thighs. This was better than even Charlie had imagined, and Charlie had an excellent imagination. Charlie had dreamt about this moment before many, many times. In the darkness of his bed, he’d indulged himself imagining what Wonka would be like in this moment of passion. It had been nothing like the perfection of reality. 

Charlie thrust upward into that inviting heat and Wonka’s hands slammed hard against the wall of the elevator, changing their direction yet again, and Charlie barely noticed any longer the rooms that were flying by them. The lurching moment sent them sprawling forward again, and Charlie collapsed on top of Wonka, the momentum driving him deeper. Wonka screeched something unintelligible, nails digging into Charlie’s upper arms and Charlie drew back. All of Wonka’s body urged him to return, tugged him back, and who was Charlie to resist. He sank into that delirious heat again, lowering his head to Wonka’s skin again. Wonka’s neck was fresh and sweet as whipped cream, his nipples, hard against Charlie’s tongue were flavoured of nutmeg. It was impossible and perfectly Willy Wonka, and Charlie loved it.

Though he was overwhelmed by his need, Charlie couldn’t bring himself to rush this. Wonka moved his hips in a slow rhythm of building desperation and Charlie matched him thrust for thrust, hard, deep and smooth. He returned to Wonka’s mouth for sweet, consuming kisses, sharing his breath, catching all of Wonka’s needy little sounds and saving them deep inside to be remembered later. This time his pleasure built slow and insistent and painfully bright, gathering and threatening to spill forth, then being swept up in more pleasure, held back and built higher. Charlie took Wonka’s erection in his hand, squeezing until Wonka was panting and gasping with need, then moving his wrist in time with their bodies. Wonka cried out, Charlie’s name formed in long syllables, impossibly high pitched, and he came hard in Charlie’s hand. Knowing that Wonka had found his pleasure, Charlie allowed himself to follow, burying himself one last time deeply inside Wonka and emptying all his desire.

When Charlie finally struggled through the clouds of dizzying pleasure and satiation, and blinked his eyes opened, he was startled to find Wonka already looking directly at him, eyes wide and clear, and full of regret. Charlie pushed himself up on his elbows, ready to say something, but Wonka beat him to the chase. “We’re going to be really late for Mother’s party,” He whispered, easing himself out from under Charlie’s body.

“Mister Wonka,” Charlie said hesitantly, reaching for him.

“Oh, dear,” Wonka breathed, going weak against the wall and Charlie jumped up to catch him, but Wonka darted aside before Charlie could touch him. He gathered his clothing in his hands, clumsily tugging on his pants and jacket, and scooping his shoes and the rest of his clothing in a bundle in his arms. “I’ll see you at dinner, Charlie,” He said with a fake grin, and like magic, the door opened for him at just the right floor.

Charlie hovered in the elevator while Wonka disappeared into his bedroom. He felt really ridiculous, standing naked here, his clothing strewn all around. There were smeared hand prints all over the elevator walls and floors, and some very telling puddles of liquid on the ground. Charlie hastily donned his own jeans, using his shirt to mop up the most obvious mess. He felt very bad about the Oompa Loompa who would have to clean this up. Charlie hurried down the hall, pausing outside Wonka’s door. He’d raised his hand to knock when he’d heard something shattering inside, and he decided to just get cleaned up.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Charlie was dreading dinner like nothing else. When he’d returned to his room to clean up, he’d been hit by a wave of dizziness. Wonka’s ‘secret ingredient’ had left him weak for several moments, then he’d drank down two glasses of water. After a quick shower Charlie’s head felt clearer and he could recall with perfect clarity all that he’d done. He didn’t regret it, as Wonka had predicted, but he could see now that it had clearly been the candy’s fault. Otherwise he'd never have had the courage to act on his feelings.

Wonka was already present when Charlie arrived, seated between Mother and Father, pouring over a photo album. Wonka had sent them on vacation for their anniversary a few months before, and the book of printed photos had just arrived. “Charlie!” Mother greeted, jumping to her feet to embrace her son in a hug. Father nodded to him eagerly, but Wonka didn’t look up from the book. Charlie pressed his gift into his mother’s hands and went to take her place at Wonka’s side.

“Dinner smells wonderful,” Wonka exclaimed, jumping up the moment Charlie sat down. “Shall I help you, Mother?” He hurried with her into the kitchen, taking her by the elbow and propelling her along to forestall any arguments. 

Charlie watched him go with a lump in his throat. Father looked between them both, then closed his book and scooted closer to Charlie. “Something you want to talk about, son?” Father asked lightly, though Charlie could hear the concern hidden beneath the words.

With a forced smile, Charlie shook his head. “Just work,” he said, “and I know how mum hates when we bring that home.” Father gave Charlie a searching look and Charlie got to his feet, sick to his stomach and dreadfully uncomfortable.

Dinner went well enough. If Wonka was bothered over what had transpired earlier, it didn’t seem he was allowing it to affect him. He chatted eagerly with Charlie’s mother and father while Charlie picked at his food. Charlie’s eyes searched for any sign of the Wonka who had been with Charlie in the elevator, but Wonka’s expression was coolly polite, his eyes unclouded, his skin smooth and colourless once more, and his clothing was more complexly conservative than usual. Charlie’s eyes spotted a darkened spot of skin high on Wonka’s throat, just peaking from his collar, and Wonka, sensing the attention, shifted subtly and tugged his collar higher, covering for it by running his fingers through his hair.

Somehow, Wonka had procured a new bottle of the lotion and made a present of it to Mother. Charlie’s cheeks burnt with embarrassment and shame when Mother spilled some into her land, licking it off with obvious delight. For the briefest moment, Charlie saw a flash of shared humour in Wonka’s eyes, but it was gone in an instant.

Charlie managed to smile his way through the evening, and when Mister Wonka excused himself, Charlie gave his father a hug and his mother a kiss and dashed after him. The elevator was waiting patiently just outside the Chocolate Room, but Wonka paused before it, shifting from foot to foot before shrugging his shoulders and opting for the hallway instead.

“Mister Wonka,” Charlie called, jogging a bit to catch up to him. His stomach was doing little flips and he felt dreadful, particularly given that even through his misery, he was trying to devise a way to get Wonka very naked again, very soon.

“Oh, Charlie, dear boy,” Mister Wonka exclaimed, looking around himself in surprise, as though he hadn’t realised he was being followed. He didn’t stop walking though, and if anything, picked up the pace. “Is there something you needed?”

“I’d really like to talk about earlier,” Charlie said hesitantly, practically running to keep up with Wonka.

“You know, I think you’re right,” Wonka agreed readily, and Charlie stopped short for a moment, surprised at the ease of it. Wonka didn’t pause, and Charlie dashed after him.

“Y—you do?” Charlie asked, hope springing up in his chest.

“Oh yes,” Wonka said, nodding, though there was a pensive expression on his face. “After careful consideration, I believe that white grape cherry would make a rather intriguing addition to the line of flavours for our tear drops. The sweet of the grape would counter the sour of the cherry perfectly.”

“What?” Charlie asked, brow furrowing in confusion. “No, I didn’t mean about that, I meant about after that.”

“Yes, well, I’m terribly sorry Charlie—” Wonka paused here to titter, “but I still don’t think that cardamom flavoured lollipops would be the best seller.”

“But, you know, the ancient Egyptians used to chew the seeds as a tooth cleaner, and in the Indies people still routinely chew them for the taste,” Charlie insisted.

“Well, there’s the problem, you see, the taste,” Wonka said, pulling a face. “Have you ever had cardamom?”

“I was thinking, though, the pods have a neutral flavour. If anyone could find a way to modify the taste, it would be you,” Charlie said eagerly, no longer having trouble keeping up to Wonka, who’d slowed his steps a bit as they ascended the stairs. “Just think, a candy that cleans the teeth of the child eating it. Parents would love it.”

“Practical candy?” Wonka asked, arching a disdainful brow. “I don’t make my candy for the pa…pa…parents,” He struggled with the last word, finally spitting it out with some effort. Even after so many years with Charlie and his family, Wonka could still be a bit touchy on the subject of parents. Charlie thought it was a mark of how far he’d come, though, that Wonka could even speak the word.

“Mister Wonka,” Charlie said impatiently, “it’s a good idea.”

Wonka stopped abruptly, tapping his cane hard against the ground and leaning forward to pin Charlie with a heavy look. “Do you think so?” Wonka asked, his teeth gleaming a bit wickedly.

Charlie swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, I just think…”

“That you know better than I do,” Wonka finished for him. He didn’t sound particularly upset. His eyes scanned Charlie up and down for a long, searching moment and then he smiled. “We’ll see, Charlie.” He spun on his heel and swung his cane smartly over his shoulder, hurrying on.

“Wha… wait,” Charlie said, ready to smack himself for having been so easily distracted from his task. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about!”

“What else in the world is there about which we could possibly talk?” Wonka asked breezily.

“You know what,” Charlie said, unable to keep his voice from going hard and angry. It was so like Wonka to pretend nothing had happened. Charlie wasn’t going to give in so easily about this, though. 

A puzzled look came over Wonka’s face as they reached the end of another long hall and began the steep climb up the swirling ramp that led toward their rooms. “Do you mean that paperwork I’ve been putting off? No need to get so worked up, Charlie. I got Shirley over in accounting to take care of that. She was ever so eager. An eager beaver, that’s Shirley. Well, an eager Oompa Loompa beaver…” He smiled again vacantly.

“Mister Wonka,” Charlie yelled, and was horrified to hear how wavering and desperate he sounded.

“My goodness, Charlie, there’s no need to shout. I’m right here. It really is rather late. I’m sure all this business talk can wait til the morning.” Wonka drew out his key chain, easily flipping through the dozens and dozens of keys to find the one that went in his door. 

“Please, can we talk about what happened in the elevator,” Charlie asked, sagging against the wall.

“Is there something the matter with the elevator?” Wonka asked, pausing in the process of pushing open his door. He looked positively horrified at the prospect. He put a hand to his cheek as if in deliberation. “Oh, dear…”

Charlie let out a hollow little laugh. “Is this how it’s going to be?” He asked.

“Charlie?” Wonka asked, befuddled. “Oh, if there’s a problem with the elevator, I should have someone look at it ri—” Charlie dove in, putting his hands on Wonka’s shoulders and covering Wonka’s mouth with his own. Wonka made a startled noise and Charlie took advantage of the parted lips to slide his tongue inside. Just as before, the mere touch of Wonka’s skin to Charlie’s own sent tingles of hot pleasure shooting up and down his spine.

Wonka was stronger than his frail frame might suggest, and he pushed Charlie away, sending him stumbling backward. Wonka’s hand flew to his mouth, and there was a dangerous look on his face. “What are you trying to prove?” He asked, his voice even.

Charlie let his hands fall helplessly to his sides and made an exasperated sound. “What do you mean?” He said, bewildered. “I’m not trying to prove anything.”

“Charlie,” Wonka began slowly, “I tried to warn you earlier. What we were feeling was an effect of the ingredients in the candy. I told you you’d regret it.” His tone was gently understanding, the look in his eyes persuasive.

“But I don’t regret it,” Charlie insisted, coming close again, hesitantly.

Wonka’s eyes widened in surprise for a moment, his mouth went wide. But then his eyes narrowed, lips drawing into a tight line of anger. “Well, I’m very glad one of us doesn’t,” He snapped, puerile, and whipped away from Charlie to enter his room.

For a moment, Charlie could only watch in disbelief, Wonka’s words echoing dully in his ears. Sometimes the man could be so damn stubborn. Charlie put his foot in the doorjamb, viciously delighted by the look on Wonka’s face, indignant and discomfited. “What are you doing?” Wonka asked, feigning polite confusion.

“Mister Wonka,” Charlie said, gritting his teeth.

“I think this conversation is over,” Wonka said, in that infuriatingly calm voice of his.

“Willy,” Charlie tried, and liked the flush that instantly set itself in Wonka’s cheeks, most likely unbidden.

“Excuse m—”

Charlie pushed his way inside, sending Wonka stumbling further into his room. He shut the door behind himself but didn’t lock it. He didn’t wish to seem threatening, but they needed to talk. He wouldn’t let their partnership, their friendship, all their years together been thrown away because Willy Wonka was a stubborn brat who hated to be proved wrong.

Wonka put himself behind an arm chair, regarding Charlie through slitted eyes, but his breathing was heavy and uneven and the sound of it was very exciting to Charlie. He seemed to be waiting for Charlie to speak, and Charlie took his time, looking around himself. He’d never been to Wonka’s private rooms before, and they were certainly interesting. Dark, rich fabrics and layers everywhere, so that Charlie couldn’t tell what the floor was made of, beneath carpets and rugs and throws, nor what colour the walls were beneath tapestries and posters and framed works of art. It was all very sumptuous and Charlie felt wrapped up in warmth, surrounded by it all.

“I know sometimes you like to be contradictory,” Charlie said slowly, surveying the trinkets atop a large chest. They were all delicate and seemingly made of spun sugar in a dozen shapes, and there was a conspicuous gap in them, and glittering dust all around, as though one had been completely destroyed. “Simply for contradiction’s sake,” Charlie finished. Wonka made a squeaking noise of protest. Charlie held up a hand to forestall any further argument and Wonka bit his lip, making an impatient face. 

“Look, I don’t mind it,” Charlie pressed on, cautiously approaching Wonka. “I find it charming, really,” He added with an embarrassed smile. Wonka let out a flustered huff and shifted on the spot, but didn’t move any further away from Charlie. “Willy,” He tried again, and Wonka’s eyes fell shut. His lashes seemed to tremble against his skin and Charlie knew it would all be alright.

“I understand now that it was an accident,” Charlie said, and Wonka’s shoulders went tense. “I never would have…would have…” Charlie trailed off, feeling absurdly childish for not even being able to name what they’d done without stammering. “But it doesn’t matter, because I wanted to,” He finished. Wonka’s eyes snapped open. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long and I was too much a coward. I’m glad you gave me the candy.”

“Well,” Wonka tried, but Charlie cut him off.

“I would really love to pick up where we left off in the elevator,” Charlie said, and stepped around the chair. Wonka took a step backward but planted his feet firmly, not giving anymore. He stared firmly at the ground at Charlie’s feet.

“I believe I have already made it quite clear that regardless of your feelings on the matter, I was merely under the influence of my candy,” Wonka said, his voice strained.

“Look me in the eye and tell me that,” Charlie said, working very hard not to loose his temper. He stepped closer and Wonka didn’t retreat. The way he bit his lip and closed his eyes was very telling. Heartened, Charlie slid a careful arm around Wonka’s waist, drawing him in. Wonka made a strange, wonderful noise and swooned against Charlie.

“You never make things easy for me, Charlie,” Wonka complained into Charlie’s chest. Charlie found himself grinning and placed a kiss on top of Wonka’s head. Wonka shivered and looked up at him, expression shrewd. “This is going to be very difficult.”

“You’re very difficult,” Charlie said with a snort. Wonka’s eyes narrowed, but Charlie kissed him before he could come up with a retort. It was very satisfying the way Wonka seemed to melt for him, arms lifting to encircle Charlie’s shoulders, mouth opening—willingly this time—and inviting.

Much, much later, Charlie found himself pleasantly tired and knew he would be sore in the morning, but thought that the reasons were entirely worthy. Wonka’s bedroom was above ground, just as Charlie’s was, but for all the drapes and tapestries, Charlie couldn’t see a single window. The room was doused in drowsy darkness, lit by wall sconces cleverly shaded, sending shadows across the jewel-toned room. Charlie could get very used to the sense of contentment afforded him by the room. He could also get used to whom he might share it with.

Willy Wonka was curled in the crook of Charlie’s arm, his hair splayed over the pillows, a lovely blush high on his cheeks. He looked very pleased with himself, running his fingers idly over Charlie’s chest. Yes, Charlie could get very used to this.

“Tell me the truth,” Charlie said in a low voice.

“Hmm?” Wonka asked, not looking up. There was a small smile toying at his lips. 

“We’ve had plenty of candy mishaps,” Charlie said, grinning as he recalled some of the more colourful. “But you’ve never suffered the consequences. You’ve never tested your own candy before you knew it was one-hundred percent safe.”

“What’s your point?” Wonka snapped churlishly. Charlie pinched him on the hip and Wonka let out a squeal of disapproval, but Charlie silenced him with a kiss.

“My point is,” Charlie said, pulling away after a long moment, and not even sure what his point was any longer. “My point is,” He persisted, “I think you took that candy on purpose.”

“On purpose!” Wonka exclaimed, sitting up suddenly. “Why would I—”

“For the same reason I was glad to have eaten it,” Charlie said, sitting up as well. Wonka looked like a peevish child who’d just had his favourite toy taken away. “You might like to blame this all on me, because that makes it safe for you, but I think you wanted this just as much as I did.”

“Well I nev—” Wonka began, but Charlie had learned a long time ago to cut him off before he could build up all his steam.

“What was in the chocolate?” Charlie asked suddenly, hoping to catch Wonka off-guard, but Wonka was ever too clever for that. His mouth closed in a tight pressed line and he turned his nose up. “Come on,” Charlie coaxed, leaning nearer and letting his hand sneak beneath the covers. Wonka squirmed, but remained silent. “What was the secret ingredient?” Wonka’s lips remained firmly closed, but as Charlie’s fingers found sensitive flesh, Wonka fell back on his elbows, eyes closing.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll just have to force it out of you…” Charlie warned, leaning in to lick a stripe up Wonka’s neck. Wonka’s lips curled into a playful smile and his eyes slitted slyly, but he still didn’t say a word.

“Have it your way,” Charlie said with a put-upon sign, and ducked beneath the covers.


End file.
